Daddy's Devilish Diary: A Helping Hand
by GoldenWhiteRose
Summary: The third collaboration between myself and WinnifredArtemis with heavily adult themes. In this, we explore how "The Dark" can invade in many forms- especially a Pendle witch!


**Happy New Year! Here is the third instalment of Daddy's Devilish Diary :) Once again, this is a collaboration between myself and WinnifredArtemis with me voicing Alice and WinnifredArtemis voicing the Fiend :P I've also updated Dusty Room quite a bit over Christmas so do check that out! X**

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Tom had been gone for six weeks, and I was really missing him. The nights were drawing in colder, and I had nothing to keep me warm at night other than a gnarled, old man who kept getting up to piss.

Tom hadn't even been gone five minutes before Old Gregory first made a move on me. He put his hand on my leg and practically asked me to suck him off; telling me I had a mouth just like my aunt, but cleaner. The filthy, old beggar, and his prick was probably more of a rat's tail, but he was one of those men who think they haven't got old.

I'd had enough of him and had started to take more and more walks. I wore Tom's old leather jerkin to keep myself warm; partly to avoid my own hideous woollen coat, but mostly because it still held the smell of him. Soap, leather and a hint of something foreign; dangerous and enticing. I walked for a couple of miles through the chilly evening and frosty grass, past a few areas Tom and I had fond memories of. There was a large willow we'd once picnicked under in the summer, and a gentle stream we'd paddled in until our toes were blue and numb.

Thinking about our time paddling in the stream got me thinking about the time we went skinny dipping in the river. And, yet again, my thoughts drifted to Tom's flat, firm abs and pert, perfect bottom. It didn't have a single spot or dimple on it; although, it did have some delicious freckles. Right now, however, in the heat of the moment, it was his cock I missed the most.

I glanced around quickly, but I knew there was no one about, and besides, my mind was already made up. I was about to do something outrageous, and if anyone happened to be watching me? Well, it was their lucky day. I needed it now and I needed it bad. That, or I might end up riding the old man tonight. I hadn't been touched in six weeks after a year of constant love making; limitless pleasure from snatched moments throughout the day and the long, lazy nights that stretched into morning. I needed Tom; I needed his deft hands and clever tongue, but as he wasn't here, I was going to have to improvise.

Lying down with my head cradled by the willow I raised my arms above my head and began to think about Tom. At first I imagined him kissing my face and neck until my hips were beginning to move, seeking stimulation for my heat. Then I remembered those early days, when we'd both struggled with our burgeoning sexuality but were too shy to explore it; the tentative fumbles and ambiguous flirts.

Moaning a little and straining my hips upwards to where my lover should be; I remembered our first, embarrassed tumble into the glorious pleasure we now bathed in. Tom and I had sat beneath this very tree one warm summer's evening, talking about very little, and as we'd sat facing each other, his knee had slowly edged its way between my open thighs. The progress had been slow, my legs bent at the knee to invite exploration, and I'd nearly moaned when his knee finally made contact. Tom had stopped talking and made intent eye contact, slowly caressing his knee up and down: asking my permission. I had adjusted my skirt casually - as though neither of us had even noticed what was going on - so that his breeched knee was now under my skirt and directly against the source of that sticky heat. The coarse fabric had rubbed against me for only a moment before I'd leapt with pleasure, forcing Tom back against the ground.

I took the whore's posture; mounting Tom as few women would dare - even in Pendle most women took the bottom, or else were pressed against the wall. But I took that position of power, and ground myself against Tom's clothed erection, my knees pressing in against his own. Unmanned, Tom had quickly reclaimed prime position and lowered himself onto me; exerting that same delicious friction.

Laying here alone now, I mimicked the movement of Tom's thrusts with the heel of my hand. I clenched my hand into a fist and rolled it against my pubic mound, my legs bending at the knee. My hips bucked against the air; the warm breeze a poor substitute for Tom's breath. My fingers clenched where his hair should have been, between my gently trembling thighs, and I heard myself whimper.

"Tom!"

 **Meanwhile** , **in the dungeons of The Darkness**

A sudden gust sent shivers through my bones, making me look up. Was it just something I had imagined? Or had that been-

A whimper cut me off, and I looked down at the man at my feet. The sheep farmer was strong for his age and I had already put him through all my standard meets off torture. Not that it had helped; the man was still looking at me with defiance in his eyes. Either I would have to be more creative, or the farmer truly didn't know what means I would go to get what I wanted.

However, I could deal with him later. Right now, I needed to do was check up on this gust.

I descended the stairs and hurried down the half-lit corridor, my thoughts going back to the shift in air I had felt. The Darkness was not free of circulation, and although the earlier gust had felt like nothing out of the ordinary, I knew for certain that it was something quite different indeed.

Power. It had been power. Still, although the wave had passed, I could feel the spark of it still lingering fresh in my memory. It felt so good; the shivering of dark magic dancing across my skin, renewing and reinforcing my own power. The Darkness was still strong, even though the strength had descended lately. It was fueled by the many dark hearts and the wielders of dark magic, but also by rituals. In the past there had been many more of this last one. Back when many there were many witches that broke out of their covens to form their own. It had been a time of constant power flushes - each and every one of them partaking in rituals that strengthened our powers. However, the world was no longer like that, and there were fewer and fewer covens around. There were still some in existence, but these were all washed up, and even with a multitude and consistency of these, the power they gave was nothing more than a drop of water. It was the lack of new blood. Fewer witches chose to go down the path to darkness, and the total amount of witches had been reduced drastically since the inquisitor and the church had intensified their hunts.

That gust had been different though; the power charged within it had been so fresh. It would have to be someone new. Not only that, but it had been strong too; a power that, if shaped right, would hold the potential of great value to the Dark.

I couldn't help but feel excited. It had been many years since there had been a strong newcomer like this. That time, I had found a young witch on the peak of her powers; dancing around between the bodies of men she had just slaughtered. She had been a great asset to my plans. Unfortunately, young Bethany had been killed only a month later; poisoned by the lover of one of her many victims.

Intrigued, I hurried over to my mirror to the world as I entered my chamber. The surface was shimmering in a milk white glow; its pulsating strong and tempting. I wanted it. I wanted nothing but to suck in that power; to let it grow strong and fierce before taking it all in. Eagerly, I leaned forward and let myself fall through the mist.

 **Meanwhile, by the stream**

I was moaning, and squirming, but something was missing. It seemed hollow somehow; the pleasure was there, but it didn't build. The most frustrating part was that I didn't know what I wanted, or rather, I didn't know what I wanted in place of Tom.

I could normally find solace in riding something firm, like a pillow ... or Tom. Or sometimes exploring my wetness with my fingers - or letting Tom do that job for me. But nothing I did - frustrated twisting or imaginative caressing - nothing helped. In fact, feeling under pressure from myself was actually starting to take some of the fun from it; I wasn't enjoying it any more. I wasn't enjoying it, and I couldn't satisfy myself, but heaven and earth, I needed to.

Crying out in frustration and anger, at no one in particular, I sat up and beat my fists against the ground, clutching my head. New feelings were beginning to wash over me; I felt unloved and unwanted. I felt like Tom wasn't inside me out of spite, and then I felt even more awful because I knew he loved me and it wasn't his fault I was so wound up and angry. I lay back in frustration and tried to ignore that persistent ache that I knew I couldn't soothe.

 **Meanwhile, in The Darkness**

As I watched her, I suddenly became aware of my own breathing pattern. Without me noticing it, my breathing had become more rapid, and the drums of my heart were hammering through my body.

 _Alice_

A joy filled me. The time had finally come. It was time for my little girl to finally grow into the daughter she was born to be; to step into the darkness and let its power wrap itself around her like a cloak of destiny. A tingling sensation ran through my body, and I had to fight not to give into the anticipation from the short spasms it brought along. It would have to wait.

Slowly, I reached my fingers through the mist. I closed my eyes, letting my body move on its own. As if on instinct my fingers moved in the substance, sliding, gliding as it reached into the earth itself. A muddy smell filled my nose, and I knew that it was time. I closed my mind off from my room and everything that surrounded my body, and let my will run down through my arms, my hands, and into the ground.

 **Meanwhile, by the stream**

As I was lying on the ground, mourning what I needed and couldn't have, I felt a twitch. The kind of twitch that persuaded me that maybe all was not lost and that I wouldn't lose anything from trying again. It wasn't like Tom was with me - nothing like that - but it was a form of compensation. What it had felt like back before I met Tom, when it didn't mean anything; it was just a basic function.

It was like that for Lizzie - I know, she'd told me once - for Grimalkin, for all witches. But not for me; it would never be that way for me again. Or, at least, it shouldn't have been. Yet here I was again, fulfilling a basic physical need purely for the satisfaction, and I didn't care. My body needed it, and that was the only reason, but that wasn't the reason I wanted.

I'd always been very in-touch with my body, and I felt, at this moment, that my body understood how I was feeling. Because suddenly my feelings changed, and it wasn't just Alice satisfying her own lust anymore, but Alice and Tom making love over a distance. I didn't know if he was touching himself right now, it didn't really matter, because at that moment I didn't feel any sense of separation from him whatsoever.

I felt my hand glide down my body, skimming my hip, the other tangling itself in my hair. It was like Tom was touching me, lying with me, but more skilfully than I even knew either he or I could be. My hands were floating as though they were barely part of my body, performing ministrations I didn't know they could - tapping and flicking and rolling.

Normally, Tom and I explored, carressing and circling, varying only forces and speeds, depending on the moment. But this was different; I imagined this is what it would have been like at the hands of an experienced lover. I didn't like it, but I couldn't control how my body reacted - and yet my body loved it. I found myself moaning and squealing and writhing against my will, and yet it was my own will. It was my own hands performing this and my own imagination!

My legs trembled, despite being without a lover to grasp, and I found myself panting - too shallow to actually draw air.

When my moment of bliss actually came, it was different from any I'd previously known. I could feel a lover's affection towards me, but it didn't exactly feel like Tom; although, it was his name I attempted in my garbled scream. My lower stomach had pulled and lurched; just as it was when Tom was particularly successful, and I felt the profuseness of mucus up to my arse, down my thighs and covering my fingers down to the palms. The taste of it had somehow gotten on my lips; it tasted strange, like Tom's tongue once it had been inside me, but without the actual taste of my lover's tongue. I realised, licking my lips tentatively and drawing my lower lip into my mouth, that this was what I tasted like - and that I tasted good. It had even gotten in my hair, I realised, as I smelled myself more profusely than ever before. And I smelt good too.

 **Meanwhile, in The Darkness**

I staggered backwards and fell down on my chair. The exercise had been exhausting. To influence the girl and give her the pleasure she sought was just a flick of a finger. It had been so easy; her willingness had given me no resistance at all. What had costed me a great deal was the projection of love. The girl needed feelings. She craved for the apprentice boy, and no act of pure lust would get by her without a little touch of 'love'. It had been tough. The power had never been a part of me, and what I had ever once in awhile used, was only based on my many years of observation and experimentation. Because of this, it took most of my focus and also an appreciable chunk of power. Still, I knew it was all worth it.

Even as I had first laid eyes on the newborn Alice, I had known that there would be much to expect. Her mother had indeed spoken true when she promised me a child with potential. I had hoped that the child would grow up while living up to her potential but, to my dismay, Lizzy gave the child to her weak sister. Lizzy had later collected the child, but at this point the young girl had spent much time with one of her other relatives - a benign witch named Agnes Sowerbutts, and had grown closer to the light.

It had been a problem. With the presence of light in one's soul, the dark potential would not be fully reached. The only way to do this was to let a strong wave of darkness overshadow and erase it. This, however, was hard to do on even the simple minded, and for someone of the mind power like Alice, it would be almost impossible. Which meant that it was all up to her.

A smile grew on my lips.

The other way to put out the light was done by the person themself. I had been looking for a way to infiltrate her, to make her choose the darker path, but I had never fully succeeded. The choice would have to be made by her, and to have no stakes that would force her hand. She had previously dealt in the dark, but those times it had been as a last resort or something she was bid to do.

 _But not tonight._

Tonight was different. Alice had opened herself to the powers that pleased her. She had accepted them and let them wash over her. It had been voluntary, and not only that, but judged on what I had seen, she had no idea of what she'd done. She had taken a sip of pleasure. It would not stop. Not now. She would come back for another taste, another ravishing pleasure. Then another, and another bigger one, until, eventually, she would let the darkness flood into her, letting it wash out that small light. Her moon would grow, and her with it. I wouldn't be long. Soon she would be mine. And then… Then all that was left was the boy.

It was so tempting to entice him the same way. To tap into him as he laid in bed, cold and alone, and remind him. Remind him of the sweet, warm Alice; her bottomless, dark eyes and wicked smile. He could do that, but… It would be careless. The boy was much more wary, and might notice the change. If that happened, he might be less receptive to that kind of magic. No, it would be better to wait. The girl would lower his guard, and when the time comes, I will let her influence the boy.

 **By the stream**

I didn't pull my dress back on to walk to the house- I realised now I must have shed it at some point. I simply left it lying there on the ground and walked back to the house naked, bathed in moonlight. I had tiny white petals strewn through my hair and stuck to my naked form and I admired my body as I drifted through the still-warm air. My thighs were gorgeous, I'd no idea why I'd ever been conscious of them; they were lean, proportionately long, and as pale as cream. They were soft and strong at the same time. All of me was beautiful. I couldn't resist caressing my entirety once more; not for pleasure, but purely for appreciation. I was perfection.

I breezed back to the house, bathed in my own radiant glow of contentment and satisfaction- not just with myself but with all the world around me. Flowers sprang up where I walked and birds chirped, despite the late hour. The stars shone just for me.

Suddenly the nights between now and seeing Tom again didn't seem so tortuous; I saw myself the way he did and, not only that, but had found a way to at least feel like I was making love to him from a distance. At the very least I'd be able to surprise him when he returned.


End file.
